Читать книгу Murder in the Museum - Simon Brett - Страница 6

‘Right, can we just deal with this calmly, please?’

Carole turned to see the tall figure of Sheila Cartwright approaching through the kitchen garden gates.

‘Of course, we’ll deal with it calmly,’ said Gina Locke, determined not to allow another usurpation of her authority. ‘Has anyone notified the police yet?’

The Volunteers shook their heads, and instinctively looked to Sheila Cartwright for their next instruction. At Bracketts old habits died hard.

‘And does the Estate Manager know?’

More shaking of heads. ‘Jonny only just found it,’ said one of the girl Volunteers.

‘Well, could you go and tell him?’ The girl set off obediently towards the stable block.

While Sheila Cartwright issued further instructions, Carole looked down at the skull and tried to analyse her reactions. The way it lay suggested that further digging would show the skull to be attached to an entire skeleton. And the neat circular hole in the back of the cranial dome raised the possibility that its owner had met an untimely end. But to her surprise, Carole realized she felt only the mildest shock at the sight. The predominant emotion she felt was curiosity, a need for explanations.

Another incipient conflict between Sheila Cartwright and Gina Locke brought her back to the present. The fuse was lit by Sheila’s assertion that she would notify the police of what had happened.

Gina instantly dug her toes in. ‘I don’t think that’s your job.’

‘Why?’ The older woman withered the younger one with her stare. ‘I rather doubt whether you know the Chief Constable as well as I do.’

‘This is hardly a matter to go up to Chief Constable level.’

‘If I may say so, Gina, that shows how little you know. The finding of a dead body somewhere like Bracketts is the kind of thing that must be kept from the press for as long as possible. If it can be kept quiet till the house closes for the end of the season, that will save a lot of disruption. Paul – the Chief Constable – will know exactly how to control the publicity. I’ll go and make the call.’

Then she turned her dominant eye on the little group that stood around the skull. ‘I need hardly say that this is something you keep entirely to yourselves. No information must be allowed to leak out before I release an authorized press statement.’

‘It isn’t you who will be issuing a press statement.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Gina! This is important. And dangerous. This is no time for petty demarcation disputes.’

The Director’s mouth was open for her response to that, but she didn’t manage to get it out, before Sheila Cartwright turned the beam of her disapproval on to one of the Volunteers. ‘Mervyn. How is it you always seem to be on the scene when there’s trouble?’

He was a thin man in his thirties with a shaven head, and the effect of her words was unexpected. Suddenly he started to sob; his whole body shook with the strength of his emotions. Jonny Tyson moved to the man, and enfolded him in an instinctive hug, the comfort given by one child to another who had just fallen over in the school playground.

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ snapped Sheila Cartwright. ‘This is a serious situation. We’ve got enough on our plates without you having hysterics!’

‘I’m sorry, it’s just . . .’ The man called Mervyn’s thin, Northern voice trembled. ‘ . . . Seeing a dead body . . . I’ve never been able to stand that . . .’

‘Must make life difficult for you,’ said Sheila Cartwright unsympathetically, ‘ . . . given your past history.’